HOW FARMER JONES 

WAS WON 

A SUFFRAGE PLAY IN SIX ACTS 



By 
MRS. INGRAM L.ARMSTRONG 

Fairburp, Nebraska 



HOW FARMER JONES 

WAS WON 



A SUFFRAGE PLAY IN SIX ACTS 

By 

MRS. INGRAM L. ARMSTRONG 

Fairburp, Nebraska 



COPYRIGHT APPLIED FOR 



APR ~2 1914 
0)CLD 3658o 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 



FARMER JONES, the Star. 
MRS. JONES 
CHILDREN: 

Sam, age 19. 

Lilly, age 17. 

Ralph, age 12. 

Twins, Julia and Jimmie, age 8. 
NEIGHBORS: 

Mrs. Catlin 

Mrs. White 

Mrs. Meyers 

Mrs. Willet 
FLYE WOMEN, Officers of Franchise Club. 
PRESIDENT OF FRANCHISE (XUB 
COLONEL ROOSEVELT 

A large number of unnamed actors, who make the crowd at a 
political rally. 

Th's exercise can be given or not as desired. 
Exercise for Nine Little Girls, Seven or Eight Years of Age. 

Enter with flags about nine inches by twelve, held over 
heads and when in line facing audience place flags with handle 
on floor, hand on top of flag resting at side, just as guns are 
placed at side at the command "rest arms." 

FIRST GIRL. — There won't be any more drunken papas 
come stagering home to beat their little children, when we get 
"votes for womicn." 

SECOND GIRL.— No more little girls and boys will go cold 
and hungry to bed when we get "votes for women." 

THIRD GIRL.— And no more little girls and boys will have 
to go barefoot in the winter snow when we get "votes for women." 

FOURTH GIRL.— And all the little children will have nice 
red hoods and red caps and mittens, when we get "votes for 
women." 

FIFTH GIRL.— And every little girl in the U. S. will get a 
great big nice doll for a Christmas present when we get "votes 

for women." 



SIXTH GIRL.— And all the little children will have lots of 
ice cream on their birthdays, when we get "votes for women." 

SEVENTH GIRL.— And all the little boys will have veloci- 
pedes and baseballs and a great big football, when we get "votes 
for women." 

EIGHTH GIRL.— And Santa Glaus will have lots more 
money for everybody when we get "votes for women." 

NINTH GIRL.— Because— we will put all the breweries and 
distilleries and saloons and blind tigers out of business, when 
we get "votes for women." 

FLAG EXERCISE.— Bring flags to shoulders and extend 
them toward audience, while saying in unison, "Your flag," then 
bring flags back to breasts and say, "and my flag." Repeat this 
exercise twice. Then hold flags straight above heads and finish 
with the words, "when we get votes for women." 



ACT I. 

Farmer Jones and son washing in a tin basin on a bench 
just outside the kitchen door. 

FARMER JONES, (Animated manner)— Now, Sam, this 
darned "votes for women" idea is going just a little too far. I 
believe in women having all the rights they need, but when 
it comes to getting out and running for office and neglecting 
homes and trying to run the mens' business and come in con- 
tact with politics, its time to put a stop to it. 

MRS. JONES, (Appearing in doorway.)— Pa, breakfast has 
been waiting twenty minutese. The biscuits won't be fit to eat 
if you keep us waiting much longer. 

FARMER JONES— Now, ma, don't come buttin' in like this 
when I've got such weighty matters on my mind as this politi- 
cal rally, and woman suffrage nonsense that has to be took care 
of today. I had some mighty weighty arguments all thot out 
and I was going to embelish 'em with facts and you come and 
upset the whole program. Well, come on Sam, lets go to bis- 
cuits. My vote is worth a whole wagon load of arguments any- 
way. 

Farmer Jones and Sam enter kitchen door. 



ACT II. 

Kitchen, stove, cupboard and anything characteristic of a 
kitchen. Family at breakfast table, five children, Sam nineteen, 
Lilly seventeen, Ralph twelve, the twins Julia and Jimmie eight 
years old. Red tablecloth, large coffee pot, biscuits, bacon and 
eggs and molasses. 

FARMER JONES, (Talking between mouthfulls.)— There 
would be more divorces and homes would be broken up and 
children would run the streets like wild steers and their moth- 
ers would be parading the streets talking politics and — 

LILLY— Oh! Pa, did you know that Mrs. Scott eloped last 
night with the postman on their route and left her three little 
children and all her setting hens and her husband and the lit- 
tle spotted calf they're raising by hand and she don't believe 
in votes for women either. She thinks the women ought to tend 
to their own business and let the men tend to their's. She 
thinks just like you do. Pa. 

FARMER J., (Chocking)— She does, does she. Well, the 
brazen hussy, she ought to be hung. 

MRS. JONES— Well it certainly is a disgrace to the whole 



neighborhood. What about the postman's wife and children? 
Poor things. It looks to me, Pa, like they ought to both be 
hung or at least locked up in jail and fed on bread and water 
for a spell until they both come to their senses. 

FARMER J.,— Nonsense, Mother, the postman's family need 
his support. It would be a shame to hang a young good look- 
ing chap like that, just because he was fool enough to succumb 
to the wiles and mecinations of that brazen faced hussy. She's 
put herself just where I always knew she belonged. Poor Scott 
certainly ought to have the sympathy of this entire community. 

SAM.— Yes, Pa, but their hired man told me last week that 
he beats her every time he comes home from town loaded to the 
brim, and that about every time. 

FARMER J. — Tut, tut, son, don't begin to peddle gossip 
like some "old woman." She probably needed all the beatings 
she ever got and its a great pity more women can't be disciplin- 
ed that way now-a-days. 

RALPH. — Yes, Pa, but I heard the hired man tell Sam how 
Mrs. Scott got a terrible beating last Saturday night and when 
he asked her Sunday morning how she got that black eye, she 
hesitated and then said she was walking in her sleep last night 
and must have hit her head on the door casing. Sam and the 
hired man laughed and said he guessed old man Scott would 
be walking in his sleep some night and accidently get hung to 
a cotton wood limb. 

FARMER J.— Well drat this nonsense. I haven't time to 
listen (rises from tablej to these neighborhood scandles. I have 
more important business on hand right now. 

LILLY, (Rising.)— Well, Pa, Mrs. Scott don't believe in "votes 
for w^omen," and that ought to be one thing in her favor any- 
way. (Laughs softly) Evidently she thinks a woman's place is 
at home. 

MRS. JONES.— I'm going over to see those poor children 
(rises) just as soon as I can get ready after the bread's set to 
rise. And all those poor settin' hens penned up in boxes that 
need to be watered and fed and that little spotted calf prob- 
ably going without its breakfast too. Its just a shame. 

Curtain falls. (Opportunity for splendid acting.) 



ACT HI. 

In bed room. Farmer J. standing before old-fashioned 
bureau, having scattered contens of two drawers over floor, calls 






in loud voice, Mother, where's that boiled shirt I wore to the 
Harvest Home picnic in September. 

Voice calls from next room— In the middle drawer, pa, right 
by your hand. Finds shirt, lays it on the bed. Next looks be- 
neath a curtain on the wall where he sees several dresses but 
no trousers. Calls again in a loud voice, "Wife, what in the 
devil have you done with my Sunday pants?" 

A voice from the next room— "Look under the curtain, Pa." 
Muttering and growling to himself Jones looks once more and 
finds pants underneath dress skirt. Lays them on bed. Looks 
at them and then counts on fingers — pants, shirt, "well thats 
the most essential— guess I could go that way if I had too. But, 
now lets see, what next, (counts on fingers) shoes, coat, vest 
and necktie." Looks under bureau, in draw^ers, under bed, even 
lifts up pillows and finally finds shoes in shoe box or window 
seat. Sets shoes on bed and remarks, "Now^ you stay put till 
Fm ready for you." Jones now starts on a still hunt for coat 
and vest which leaves every dress and skirt under the wall 
curtain lying on the floor, but no coat and veset. 

FARMER J., (Calls in loud voice)— Ma, what in time have 
you done with my Sunday coat and vest. Its a queer thing how 
my clothes always get hid just when I want to use 'em. 

MRS. JONES, (Entering calmly, takes a coat hanger from 
the wall and lifting a calico cover reveals coat and vest.) — Here 
it was in plain sight William, if it had been a bear it would 
have bit you. You've never out-grow^n the days when a woman 
had to dress you (and hesitating) spank you too, and its a pity. 

FARMER J., (Looks radient, takes coat and places it on 
bed.) — Now all I need to complete this thing is a consarned 
necktie. 

MRS. JONES— You can find it yourself William, or go w^ith- 
out it, (and sails out of room.) 

FARMER J., (Looks amazed)— Why, What's the matter now. 
Oh! I know, mother's mad because she can't vote and she know^s 
I don't want her too. The facts are I don't think its a sensible 
thing for any man to voluntarily surrender his domestic author- 
ity. When you've got a good thing hang on to it— as long as 
you can anyway. No sense in a man rushing to his own doom 
when he don't have to. (Goes to bureau, scattering much on 
floor, and finally brings up a flaring red, yellow^ and green neck- 
tie and places it on bed.) Now that I have spent about two 
hours in correlling this wordrobe I think I can get into it in 
abaut two minutes. 

Curtain falls. 



ACT IV. 

Sitting room, large square ingrain carpet on floor. Old-fash- 
ioned chairs, carpet covered sofa, centretable on which rests a 
large family biJble. Cardboard motto, "God Bless Our Home," 
hanging in conspicuous place. 

A knock from outside, door slightly ajar. A voice is heard 
saying, '[1 wonder where those children can be. Can it be pos- 
sible that he has gone and murdered himself and all his chil- 
dren just because his wife has run ofT with another man. We 
often read of such dreadful things in the papers. Its really my 
duty to go in and find out but— Oh! here comes Mrs. Catlin, 
I'll wait for her and we'll go in together." A moment later two 
women enter dressed plainly, both wearing gingham aprons and 
sunbonnets. 

MRS. JONES, (Throwing up handsexclaiming) — Praise the 
Lord, what a relief to know everything's all right — at least as 
far as being murdered in your own blood is concerned. There 
don't seem to be a soul around here. I wonder what it means? 

MRS. CATLIN— I never was more got in my life. Mrs. Scott 
always appeared to be such a modest retiring sort of a creature 
and she seemed to think a heap of her family. 

MRS. JONES— Yes. but you can't always tell. Its these quiet 
ones you have to watch the most sometimes. But it does seem 
strange, for she never seemed to be hankering after notariety 
like Jones says all women do who want to become legal citizens 
and vote and hold office like the men do. 

MRS. CATLIN— Now, Mrs. Jones, don't talk about seekin' 
noteriety— if you don't want to get me started. Just so did 
George Washington and Patrick Henry and John Adams and 
Thomas Jefferson seek notoriety when they wanted to become 
legal citizens and have a personality that counted, when it come 
to payin taxes. They objected to being bunched like a herd of 
steers and taxed en-masse and so do I. Til risk all the notoriety 
comin' to me by castin' my vote in the ballot box once a year. 

MRS. JONES— Yes, but Jones says there will be more divor- 
ces and— 

MRS. CATLIN (interrupting)— Good Lord, Mrs. Jones, use a 
little common sense on this question. Don't some men run an 
awful risk of having their homes broken up when they allow 
their wives to cast letters into the mail boxes every day in the 
year? I tell you Mrs. Jones casting a printed opinion about the 
government into a sanctified ballot box aint a goin' to change 
the human nature of a woman. Its amazin' to me that men who 



have never been arrested for being short on brains would use 
such an argument. Human nature is something that will show 
itself under any and all conditions. What would this commu- 
nity think of me if I should bob up on the church steps some 
Sunday morning, just as all the men was a hitchin' their horses 
to the racks and sing out, "take the ballot away from the men, 
there's too many divorces goin' on in this community and too 
much voting on the part of the men must be the cause of it." 
Why Miss Jones, you know they would have me before the 
lunicy commission in less 'en twenty four hours. (Mrs. Catlin 
can walk about gesticulating a little if desired.) 

MRS. JONES.— I always knew there was no sense to that di- 
vorce argument, because (leaning forward), when a woman won't 
leave a man for a thousand times weightier reasons, she won't 
leave him, because of him voting contrary to her wishes. I want 
to tell you, Mrs. Catlin, that husbands voting contrary, would 
be a summer days picnic for some women. I'm speaking this 
out of deep experience, and its just between you and me. 

A knock sound on the door. 

MRS. JONES (aside)— Merciful goodness, I hope they didn't 
hear that 

Enter Mesdames Meyers, Willet and White. All plainly 
dressed, wearing aprons and sun bonnets. 

Greetings exchanged all around. 

MRS. WILLET— We just felt like it was our duty to come 
over here and see how things was goin'. 

MRS. WHITE — I just wanted to prove things for myself and 
see if she was really gone before I repeated what I heard this 
morning. I do hate gossip so, especially unfounded gossip. 

MRS. JONES— Well, poor Miss Scotts gone all right but I 
don't know as you would blame her much if you knew all 
there is to know in this case. 

MRS. MEYERS— For the lands sake, Mrs. Jones, what on 
earth do you mean? 

MRS. JONES, (very deliberately.)— I want to say that It 
ain't the ballot that is coming but its the booze thats here, 
thats making divorces right now every day in he year. Poor 
hing, she deserves our pity. 

MRS. WILLET.— We suspicioned as much but she was so 
quiet and never said nothing that we wasn't just sure. 

MRS. WHITE.— I wonder if she left a note, poor thing. 

MRS. WILLET.— That's right, lets make a search and see if 
we can find it. (All search.) 



MRS. MEYERS.— Oh! here it is pinned in a fold of the lace 
eurtin. (All gather about her, Mrs. Meyers reads) "Dearest hus- 
band, it breaks my heart to leave you thus, but your cruel treat- 
ment periodically continued causes me at times to even fear for 
my life." Mrs. Catlin throws un hands, (express amazement) 
and sinks into chair. Mr^ Meyei^ continues reading, "It is only 
because of your generous,' kindly nature when you are yourself 
that I have remained and suffered as long as I have." Mrs. Jones 
now sinks into rocking chair, takes up one corner of apron and 
wipes eyes. Mrs. Meyers continues, "I am going to my grand- 
father's home in Huntersville. They have long wanted me to 
leave you but I have been so torn by conflicting emotions (Mrs. 
Meyers' voice chacks, continues reading with unsteady voice) 
that I have never been able to decide till now." Mesdames Wil- 
let and White now sink into chairs and dab handkerchiefs to 
eyes. Mrs. Meyers continues reading, "Even now I should remain 
here if the R. R. driver, who has long known of my mistreat- 
ment at your hands, had not made it possible for me to take all 
the children with me. I have waited in patience for you to re- 
form till all hope was gone. You will never know with what ter- 
ror I have listened for your foot steps that seemed to sound 
the death knell of all my earthly hopes when you were not your- 
self, husband, because of the liquid demon that had stolen 
away your true nature, but I shall never cease to pray for your 
ultimate reformation. Your heart-broken wife, Lucy L. Scott." 
Mrs. Meyers wipes eyes, others wipe eyes. Silence prevails for a 
minute. 

MRS. WHITE.— Ladies, I feel more like having a prayer 
meeting than anything else I can think of. 

MRS. CATLIN.— Prayer meetings are all right. I was raised 
on 'em, but faith and works go together. If we had the power 
of the ballot we could straighten out Miss Scott's troubles in 
twenty four hours. 

ALL in chorus— Thats just what I say, thats just right. 

MRS. WILLET.— Ladies, if we don't get elected to citizen- 
ship next Tuesday, lets starve 'em out, just naturally quit cook- 
ing. Its the best argument I know of. 

MRS. JONES. (Throwing up hands.)— For the lands sake, 
them settin' hens haven't been watered yet and I plum forgot 
'em tiU this minute. (Rises and leaves room.) 



MRS. WILLET.— Thats partly what I came over for. (Fol- 
lows Mrs. Jones out of the door.) 

MRS. MEYERS.— And that little spotted calf needs its 
breakfast. I knew^ there was something on my mind that hadn't 
been tended to yet. (Leaves room.) 

Mesdames Catlin and White rise to follow as curtain falls. 



ACT V. 

An ordinary stage with small temporary platform erected 
for speaker. A "votes for women" motto just above the tem- 
porary platform. A dozen men standing about talking excited- 
ly. 

Enters from the back of the stage, directly onto the tempor- 
ary platform, five women, officers of The Womans Equal Fran- 
chise Club, (wearing votes for women badges across breast) and 
sit down in chairs arranged on platform, as about twenty (un- 
der circumstances may be more or less) women enter from both 
sides of stage and throng about platform, wearing votes for wo- 
men badges across breast and waiving "Votes for Women" pen- 
ants. Six, eight or ten men can also enter from both sides of the 
platform just after the women. (A representation of a political 
rally or gathering of the crowds just before the speaker arrives.) 

Enter from back of stage elegantly dressed woman, president 
of The Franchise Club followed by the speaker of the day, who 
proves to be Colonel Roosevelt. The men toss hats into air cal- 
ling "what's the matter with T. R. He's all right." The women 
wave penants and cry, "Votes for w^omen, long live Teddy, he is 
for us and he's all right." 

The president of the club steps forward, bows and says, 
"Friends and neighbors who I see gathered here before me, we 
have with us this afternoon one of the greatest men of this 
age and one of the few great men of this day who ha« rallied to 
the support of our great and just and world wide cause. I now 
present to you one who needs no introduction to a Nebraska 
audience." As Roosevelt steps forward the crowd renew calls, 
"Long live Teddy, votes for women, give women their rights, noth- 
ing slow about Teddy. He's all right." Men toss hats in air and 
women wave penants. The main thing is to represent a spon- 
taneous political rally. 

ROOSEVELT, (Smiles and waves hand.— Men and women, 
I am delighted to be here this afternoon to engage in this great 
revolutionary campaign that now confronts us. Men, do you 



know that you are in the midst of the most peaceful revolution 
the world has ever seen? The political emancipation of one half 
the human family and that the better half, is not only a nation 
wide, but a world wide revolution, for sooner or later, it is in- 
evitably coming, wherever man alone now holds the scepter of 
authority. And while this is the most peaceful revolution the 
world has ever seen it is also the greatest, because it includes 
every nation, every race, and every condition of women. Talk 
about this question being a "states rights" job is enough to 
make a jack rabbit laugh. Building bridges and flood protec- 
tion banks might be called state jobs, but placing woman's po- 
litical emancipation on a par with good roads etc. is an insult 
to her womanly dignity and absolute human value. Say boys, 
Fm getting warm under the collar and if I should happen to 
say a few things I know the ladies will pardon me for there is 
nothing like fighting in the open. I really enjoy it. I am no new 
convert to this great cause, for in my innaugural address as 
governor of New York in 1899 I called the attention of the legis- 
lature to the desirability of gradually extending the sphere in 
which the suffrage could be exercised by women.* And all who 
were opposed to that measure wanted to mob me, and all my 
enemies are now saying I am a recent convert because I think 
I can profit by it, but boys, its a lie, don't believe it; but any 
man who contradicts my word is a liar, anyway, so we will just 
pass that subject up. Now for a few arguments on the question 
at hand. In the first place every man who is opposed to giving 
woman her rightful place in community life ought to be hung; 
in the second place, he ought to be disfranchised for about ten 
years while his wife did all the voting for the family. In the 
third place no equal franchise state or country has . ever 
revoked its equal franchise and never will because it is too 
eminently just and too evidently productive of good to every- 
one concerned. (Turning with a smile he bows to officers of 
the club.) There's your argument ladies, the pivot on which 
you can rest your cause, the pivot that will ultimately turn the 
world. (Women all clap and wave penants.) All those long 
standing and moss covered arguments against womans enfran- 
chisement have proved absolute bugaboos, and when anyone 
opposed, springs, the divorce deluge that is sure to follow, just 
tell him to bring on his proof, thats all. Te read the arguments 
presented by some so-called statesmen, one would be led to 
suppose that they were not aware of the fact that one fourth 

*An historical fact. 



of his country had already adopted equal franchise. In fact 
there is no argument against equal franchise. It is a reform 
too long delayed already. Give woman her rightful place in 
community life and we will rule the world, for the strength of 
a nation lies in the intelect and the virtue of her women. The 
strength of a nation does not lie alone in the virtue of her wo- 
men. Every imperial government of the past that banked alone 
on the virtue of its women and denied acknowledgement of 
their intellectual attribute has gone to the scrap heap. Imper- 
ial India of the past now lays prostrate at the feet of England 
and behold the condition to which she has debased her women. 
Look at the Mohammedon world where the seclusion and de- 
gredation of woman has gone even farther than their unspeak- 
able debasement in India. The very chapter in the Koran that 
treats of the legal status of woman is called the Cow, w^here she 
is classed as a scandal, a slave, a disgrace, a temptation, a blem- 
ish and a burden on the face of the earth. And in every country 
where Islamism prevails civilization has been dragged down to 
the same level to which the w^omen have been debased. Get a 
world view of this question, men, for that is what it is, a world 
question, and the greatest that has confronted humanity since 
the right of representative government w^as declared to be an 
inalniable right by our forefathers in 1776. But they just got 
half, way towards the truth in that declaration for w^e have now 
reached another mile stone in the progress of the human race. 
Men, don't belittle your intelect and your manhood by repeat- 
ing kindergarten objections to a question that is as wide and 
deep and high as the width and depth and height of human 
needs and human possibilities. To say that woman's rightful 
place is at home, is only a little less paganistic than to say her 
rightful place is behind haram walls or zenana walls, or the 
health destroying veil of heathen religions. Why should wo- 
man's rightful place be behind any old walls? In the name oi 
religion or any other name. It has degraded every nation that 
has committed that colossial human crime and elevated every 
nation in proportion as they have avoided such practices. I'll 
tell you men, the seclusion of women is paganistic, it is the 
very cornerstone of heathen religions. It is not the teachings of 
Christianity, for God saw it was not good for man to be alone, 
tor in a multitude of council there is wisdom. (Roosevelt then 



bows to officers of Womans Club.) For five thousand years the 
world has been legislating from the male point of view, and as 
a consequence every world power of the past has gone down in- 
to the dust of decay never to arise. Mother instinct, mother love, 
the council of motherhood has been too long ignored by the 
law givers of the nations. 

FARMER JONES (Climbs up on corner of platform and waiv- 
ing arms, shouts)— Give the women a chance, give 'em social jus- 
tice, I say give 'em. 

A dozen hands start to drag Jones from platform but Roose- 
velt rescues him. "Hold on boys, let him finish" (T. R. places 
hand on Jones' shoulder and turning to audience says, "Here's 
a man who believes in equal privileges for all and special priv- 
ileges for none. 

THE CROWD— What's the matter with Jones. He's alright. 
FARMER JONES (looks embarissed)— I say, give the women 
a chance, (pauses) votes for women, (pauses) VOTES FOR WO- 
MEN, (another embarissed pause and finishes) VOTES FOR 
WOMEN, Amen. The crowd yells and Jones tumbles of! plat- 
form. Jones can assume character of hayseed overcome by sud- 
den honors. (Chance for splendid acting.) 

ROOSEVELT (smiling)— My friend Jones hasn't much to 
say but he talks to the point and that is the main thing. 

Women wave penants and cry— What's the matter with Mr. 
Jones? He's all right, votes for women, votes for women, he's all 
right. 

T. R. (smiles — ^Now friends, just a word in conclusion. You 
are confronting a great opportunity. You have the power of 
lifting the social and economic conditions of your state to a 
higher plain f civic righteousness than has ever been attained 
in the past. Take your wives and your mothers into your coun- 
cils of state just as the great I Am intended for man to do from 
the dawn of creation and you will have started on the road 
that leads to the milinium. And I believe that the great gener- 
ous hearted, righteousthinking manhood of this state will not 
fail us (bows to president of Club) in that final testing hour of 
easting the ballot of decision; the decision for civic righteous- 
ness and woman's emancipation. I think you. 

Just as T. R. finishes, Jones bobs out in front of theatre 
audience and in pompous manner, and waiving arms cries— God 
bless the women. 

Everybody laughs. Curtain falls. 



ACT VI. 

Kitchen. Family gathered about table, covered with red ta- 
ble cloth on which rests a large showy coal oil lamp. Sam read- 
ing magazine (Independant farmer) Lilly tatting or crocretting. 
Ralph cleaning rifle. The twins Julia and Jimmie playing dom- 
inos. Mrs. Jones is mending a pair of trousers. Sews on button 
and then basts on patch and later sews it firmly in place. 

MRS. JONES.— Pa seems to be later than usual tonight. 

SAM. — Oh he'll be along pretty soon. He's just stopped to 
gas with some of his cronies and say what he thinks about it. 

LILLY.— Why, Sam, arn't you ashamed of yourself to speak 
that way about father. 

SAM.— Oh, Pop's all right only he might be improved a little 
(and continues reading.) 

JULIA. — Oh ! Mama, Jimmie w on't play fair, he's counting 
more 'en he ought to for himself, and says girls don't know how 
to count right. 

MRS. JONES. (adjusts spectacles and looks at children).— 
Now children play fair or you will both have to go to bed. 

JIMMIE, (begins to bluster and says).— Well she's tryin' to 
tell me how to count the points and she don't know nothin' 
about it, because girls ain't supposed to know. 

LILLY. — Say Jimmie, who got 97 in the last number test and 
who got 73? 

RALPH (grins and turning round nudges Jimmie). — Say, 
old man, that's what I say, who got 73? 

JIMMIE (with great bluster).— Well, if you're all so smart 
and know so much more than I do, I'll just quit. Nobody has 
to play 'at I know of. (Ralph pushes back from table.) 

JULIA (dropping head on table sobs out).— He wasn't play- 
ing fair, but I was. 

MRS. JONES.— Now Jimmie, arn't you ashamed to treat lit- 
tle sister like that. Let sister count her way one game and you 
count your way next time. 

JIMMIE (still blustering).— Well I don't care, they're all so 
smart and know so much, (and begins to edge toward table 
again.) 

JULIA (raising head smiles radiently). — Come on Jimmie, 
I'll let you win one game and you can let me win one game. 

MRS. JONES.— That's right brother, play with sister and be 
a good boy. 



A noise is heard from outside, neighing of horses and a loudj 
voice calls — Hello in there. Bring out the lantern. 

MRS JONES.— Run Ralphie and get the lantern, (Ralph 
takes lantern olT of hook in kitchen and goes out) and Same 
you go and help father put up the horses. I expect he'll be hun- 
gry coming home this late, (rises and puts cofTee pot on stove, 
sits down and again takes up mending of trousers.) 

Sam leaves room, a moment later Jones enters, walks up to 
table pulls a bundle of newspapers from one pocket and two 
full-sized unwrapped plugs of chewing tobacco from another 
pocket, lays them, on table. Finds sack of candy in another 
locket, sets it on table and says to Julia, "Here, baby, is your 
candy." (This last must be said in a proud affectionate fatherly 
way.) 

Julia gets candy and gives some to her mother and Jimmie. 

Jones looks around, smiles in a friendly way, takes off hat 
and as he hangs it up says, "Well I got home." 

Julia gets his slippers while Jimmie helps him take off his 
shoes. 

MRS. JONES.— Did you see any of the folks in from over Cub 
Creek way. Pa? 

FARMER J.— Yes, but not to visit with 'em. 

31RS. JONES.— I wish you had found out about how Mrs. 
Johnson's baby is getting along after that spell of measels it 
came so near dying with. — Do you want Lilly to get you a lunch, 
Pa? 

FARMER J.— no, don't^ bother, I aint hungry. (Goes to shelf 
and takes down pipe and slowly fills it and continues) Seven 
of us boys went into th^ new palace restaurant and had a dan- 
dy oyster stew just before we started for home. Some time, ma, 
when your in town and its convenient, I'll take you in there and 
treat you. (Jones sits down by table and begins to smoke.) 

LILLY.— Well, Pa, tell us all about what happened in town 
today. Do you think our amendment will carry next Tuesday? 

FARMER J.— So you really want to vote, do you, just like 
your old daddy? (Said very earnestly.) 

MRS. JONES.— Yes, Pa, and its a cryin shame that us wo- 
men haven't the ballot this very minute, for Mrs. Scott never 
run off atall, she was just naturally driven away because of 
whiskey in the home, and if ther's lots of women aint contented 
to stay in their homes these days, its just because you men folks 
didn't seem to have sense enough to keep whiskey out of the 



iiuiuL'-, when you was tryin' so desperit hard to keep women in 
the homes. I'll tell you, Pa, them two elements won't mix in a 
home, and w^hen they do, the homes gone. There aint no roof 
broad enough to make a home for both woman and whiskey, 
and it peers. to me like women just naturally have to get out 
and clean up their own homes so they can stay in 'em. It seems 
like I just got my eyes opened this morning to what "votes for 
women" means and I don't know when I've been so riled up. I 
wish you could have heard Mrs. Catlin talk common sense this 
Homing, Pa, for she has different ideas from you, and I think 
she is right too. I'll have her over to spend the day sometime 
before long. 

Jones looks sheepish. (His facial expression can be a mas- 
terpiece of acting.) 

Enter Sam and Ralph carrying lantern which he hangs up. 

SAM.— Father, did you see Scott's hired man in town today? 
He just stopped out here in the drive way a few minutes; he 
says the old man has gone after his wife and kids and also that 
he saw^ you in town today. 

JONES. (Acts nervous, going through all the motions with 
his pipe, shifting it from hand to hand, pressing down tobacco, 
lighting match etc. Clears throat and says) — What's — ^what's 
that about Scotts hired man? 

SAM. — He said you must have flopped on the woman ques- 
tion or had been drinking ice cold butter milk on the sly. (Sam 
laughs. ) 

FARMER J.— Buttermilk? Humph, he must have been out 
of something to talk about. 

SAM (laughs).— Well he didn't seem to be father. He said 
you were up a hurraying for the women this afternoon at their 
rally when they sprung Teddy on the crowd, and that you said 
*'God bless Jane Adaams" or something like that. 

FARMER J. (looking releived).— Well, that's a most tremen- 
dous falsehood, for I never said nothing about Jane Adaams. 

SAM— Well, what woman was it Pop? Was it Mrs. Pank- 
hurst? 

Family all laugh but Jones fails to see joke. 
FARMER J. (Emphatically).— No sir, I never said nothing 
about no woman. I just simply said "God bless the women," 



and all the time 1 was thinking about your mother. 

LILLY, (Springing up, runs round table puts arms about 
her father's neck, standing back of his chair, says joyfully)— Oh! 
you blessed old daddy. Then you are really converted to our 
cause and will vote for us next Tuesday. 

JONES.— Well, most anybody would get converted if he 
should be suddenly confronted with them arguments T. R. 
fetched along with him this afternoon. 

MRS. JONES, (who is still sewing patch on trousers, looks 
radient and stretches hand toward her husband.) — Praise the 
Lord, William, praise the Lord, now I can help Mrs. Scott out 
of her troubles the first opportunity that presents.* And Wil- 
liam, I'll feel just as holy as if I was going to a prayer meeting, 
for faith and work goes together, that's scriptural. 

SAM— Well, Pop, tell us all about it. 

LILLY.— Yes, Daddy, we're just dying to hear. Please tell 
us all about what T. R. said and what they all said and did? 

FARMER J. (clears throat.)— Well, 'twas just like this. 
Soon's I saw them suffrage women had T. R. correlled up there 
on the platform I sensed right away just how things was agoin'. 
I knew he'd say that every one who did't believe in "votes for 
women," wasn't hardly fit to be hung and knowin' as how I 
didn't belong to that class— 

RALPH— What Class was that. Pa? 
PARMER J.— Why, the hangin' class, of course. 

MRS. JONES.— Don't interrupt your father, when he's talk- 
ing. Ralphie. 

JONES.— Well, as I was saying, feeling that I was above that 
class, I says to myself, (gestures toward wife) now, ma, this aint 
profanity, you've often cautioned me about this, ma, but this 
aint profanity. Its just the way I felt. I says to myself, "For 
God's sake, Jones, get into the band wagon quick." 

MRS. JONES, (surprised)— William! 

FARMER J. — Now, ma, that ain't profanity. Its patriotism, 
if you look at it right. You can all go to town with me next 
Tuesday. It'll be pretty apt to scarry. 

SAM.— Lill, old girl, you can have my vote any time you 
want to run for sheriff. 

LILLY.— Oh! Sam. hush such nonsense. What I want is a 
chanr-e to vote for you and father or any other good man when 



he runs for office, for, as it is now, some men are too good to 
stand any show at all of getting elected. (Lilly rises and makes 
a low bow to her father and Sam.) 

SAM, (laughs and clapps hands.)— Good for you Sis. You 
will make a diplomat in spite of yourself. From now on its 
"votes for women" in this house, till that cry goes out of use 
as a campaign slogan in this state or any other. 

Curtain falls. 

Exercise by nine little girls. 



imk 



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